


Any Day or Night

by imperiousheiress



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperiousheiress/pseuds/imperiousheiress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles never fails to call Erik when he’s drunk, and Erik never fails to come to him when he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Day or Night

Charles doesn’t drink as much as he used to. The school has been restarted, slowly but surely, and they have more students than ever before, to teach and train and care for, and he finds himself impossibly busy on a daily basis. Although he had been undoubtedly important in the last ten years, Charles isn’t sure that he would have been able to survive the last ten _months_ without Hank. He was never all that good with children, and although he’s improving, he knows he still has a long ways to go and it’s going to take him time, although that is not something he entirely has the luxury of at the moment, given the current situation of… _things_.

The constant work and running (wheeling _)_ about back and forth for this and that and other important things does keep his mind blessedly occupied, and he is grateful for that at least. With everything he has to do at the school, he doesn’t have quite as much time to think back on the last news report that he saw about an incident that made his stomach tighten painfully with the suspicion that Raven had somehow been involved, or remember how he’d been allowed to have Erik back for mere hours only to have him wrenched away again. These are the things he luckily manages not to think too long on most days.

Of course, he can’t hide from them forever, and there are nights on which they seek him out and don’t allow him to ignore them any longer, and he remembers everything that has come to pass which he regrets, until a physical pain manifests itself in his chest and all he wants to do is lay down in a dark corner and sob, and never have to face the light of day again. So he returns to old comforts and locks himself in his room to lose his senses in a bottle of the strongest stuff money can afford. Inevitably, he always ends up picking up the phone, so to speak.

 

\---

 

Erik is flying over a train that he’s been tracking from Montpelier, Vermont for three hours, which appears to be headed into Massachusetts, and, Erik suspects, Boston, which is unknowingly carting several cases of files which contain the information of a few influential anti-mutant sympathisers whom he would absolutely _love_ to take down before they could cause any harm. The only reason he has not yet bent the train in half and torn a hole in it to retrieve the documents is that he wants to see where it’s meant to be going first. He needs to know where that information is being sent, and for what purpose. Then he’ll rip it apart. To make a statement. Not for dramatic effect, he tells himself.

He hears it over Northfield, Massachusetts, just past the border, although he doesn’t know that that’s where he’s at considering there’s no significant change in trees, livestock, and railroad tracks in-between Vermont and Massachusetts, and as soon as he does, his stomach drops to his toes and he momentarily forgets what he’s doing. Just one word, echoing in his own mind, and one he’s heard many times in many different tones.

_Erik?_

He feels the push on his mind, gentle and uncertain, but undoubtedly there. It’s not intrusive, only a slight pressure with the goal of getting his attention and nothing more, and it works. That’s all it takes, because Erik can feel the emotions that Charles is projecting onto him, can feel that he’s struggling to hold them back and yet let him know at the same time. That’s all it takes, because it must be past three in the morning and there is only one reason Charles would seek him out at this time, and only one reason Charles would seek him out like this at all.

He changes course and leaves the train far behind.

 

\---

 

It’s past four in the morning by the time Erik manages to fly back to the mansion. He floats soundlessly through the window into Charles’s study. He’s left the window open. For Erik. The moment his feet touch the floor, he hears his name whispered through the dark.

“Erik?”

There is the sound of clothing brushing against skin with the movement of the body beneath it, and a clatter as several things are knocked to the ground because of it.

Erik’s gaze is drawn to the desk, which has more than one empty bottle atop it (and likely more on the floor as well) and Charles is sitting at it, attempting to use it to pull himself up on so he’s somewhat close to standing. Erik rushes to him, because even in the dark he can see the strain the effort is putting on Charles, and the telepath throws his arms around Erik’s neck the moment that he is within reach. Without really consciously making the decision, Erik lifts him completely into his arms so that Charles’s unfeeling legs are somewhat clumsily secured around his waist, and Erik has one arm under him and one around his back, fully supporting him.

Charles’s head falls forward until his forehead is against Erik’s shoulder, and he does nothing to protest his change in position, or indicate that he does not, in fact, particular like it. He actually seems comfortable. At least, if Erik had to guess at it, he’d say that he was probably more comfortable than not.

“You weren’t home,” Charles mumbled against his shoulder. “I tried calling.”

“No,” Erik says gently, “I was out.”

“But you came.” Erik can feel the muscles move in Charles’s jaw as his lips twist into a smile against his neck when the man adjusts to nuzzle his face ever so slightly into it.

“Of course,” mumbles Erik soothingly. “Nothing could have kept me away.”

His right hand rubs lazy circles into Charles’s back, and he sits quietly for a moment, feeling the rise and fall of the slightly smaller man’s chest against his own, the huff of warm breath against his neck, and he is struck with a feeling of contentment just knowing that Charles is here, and he’s safe, at least for now.

“What was it this time?” Erik asks quietly enough that Charles can pretend to have not heard him if he doesn’t want to answer. He has no need to worry, because a moment later, Charles lifts his head slowly from its position in the crook of Erik’s neck so that he can meet his eyes.

“Everything,” Charles chuckles out, a bitter laugh. “Getting you back for five minutes only to lose you again, worrying about Raven, you, my shitty skills at teaching… you.”

“You know you don’t have to get yourself pissed every time you want to see me,” Erik mutters, meeting impossibly blue eyes. He tries for a stern tone, but to his ears it is sad and full of concern, something he is sure Charles can feel from him, even if he’s not coherent enough to have heard it. “As far as I know, my phone functions perfectly well before one in the morning.”

Erik’s breath catches as Charles’s left hand comes up to slowly, almost shyly meet his cheek, and suddenly those blue eyes are looking up at him from beneath long lashes. It all sends his heart tapping out a nervous rhythm against his chest, which he’s sure Charles can feel thanks to their cursed proximity.

“I never think…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Oh, how little faith you have in me, old friend,” Erik breathes out, practically against Charles’s lips. He’s not sure when he got so close, but he’s not about to move away, either. “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve dropped whatever I was doing and hurried to where you are, have I not? Do you think I will not continue to do the same, no matter what time of day?”

“Maybe I need the alcohol to get up the courage to call you,” Charles argues, one eyebrow quirking up in that expression that always makes Erik want to either hit or kiss him.

He does the latter, with a brief press of lips against lips. When he pulls away, Charles’s mouth chases his own, but he puts his hand against his lips, not letting him have his way.

“You’ve never been shy about having me over before,” Erik chides, smirking.

Childishly, although Erik supposes somewhat predictably, Charles licks his hand, causing him to jerk it away and wipe it on his pants, revealing the telepath’s shit-eating grin.  

“You’ve never complained,” Charles retorts.

“You’ve never given me reason to,” Erik says, reattaching his lips to Charles’s without giving him a chance to return one of his snappy comments. He seems to be perfectly content with occupying himself by slipping his tongue into Erik’s mouth instead. Erik turns around to face Charles’s desk without breaking the kiss. He clears a little room, but most of what needs to be moved will require physical means, so he pulls away and let Charles’s lips find his neck as he moves the arm that was around the smaller man’s back to swipe away the papers piled atop the wood surface. He gently sets Charles down atop the furnishing, managing not to disrupt the progress he is making across the surface of Erik’s neck.

He gasps when he feels teeth find purchase in the sensitive skin right beneath the line of his jaw, and finds himself running his hands up and down Charles’s sides, mussing up his dress shirt even more than it already is and managing to expose a strip of skin above his waist band, which he eagerly runs his thumb across. Erik feels Charles shiver beneath him, and Charles’s other hand joins the first on the other side of Erik’s face, pulling him in for another inescapable kiss.

Erik lets himself get lost in it, caught up in the intoxicating pull that Charles has always had and will always have over him. He does not –will not rebuke his ideals for any living thing, including the telepath, but if Charles says jump… He doesn’t mind the kind of influence Charles has over him, because he knows that, to some extent, Erik possesses the same power over him.

It’s when Charles pulls away, pressing soft kisses first to his nose and then both cheeks before going back to sucking marks in his neck, both hands dropping to the buttons on his collar so he could peel away the obstructing pieces of fabric and give himself more room for his work, that Erik remembers the reason he’s here in the first place and not flying over a train miles away.

“What about me?” he gasps out, increasing the pressure of his hand on Charles’s hip beneath his shirt to get his attention. He is only moderately successful in suppressing a shudder as Charles licks the mark he was just working into Erik’s neck with his teeth before pulling away with a heavy sigh.

“Must we really discuss this?” he asks tiredly, looking up so that those blue eyes are piercing Erik’s once more.

“Yes,” Erik says sternly, leaving no room for argument.

“ _Erik_ ,” Charles whines, too drunk to assert that he’s not pouting.

“No,” Erik presses. “I need to know what _about_ me kept you up and made you feel as if you needed to do this to yourself. If it’s anything I’m doing to make you think… or if there’s something I can do at all…”

Charles presses a finger against Erik’s lips, effectively shushing him. He takes a breath and smiles up at him sweetly, heartbreakingly.

“You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing on my mind when I fall asleep. Maybe I can spend a few minutes distracting myself, but even after all this time your scent still lingers in your room and I always keep your favourite cereal in the cupboards. I look at the places where we used to kiss, and I can still taste your lips on mine.” Charles huffs out a somewhat choked laugh. “I guess what I mean to say is that I always miss you, just sometimes it becomes too much to bear.”

Charles has one hand fisted in Erik’s shirt with a grip that has turned his knuckles white, and the other he rubs over his own face, gaze fixed somewhere below Erik’s chin.

“Charles… _Charles_ , look at me,” Erik insists. He brings his hands up to grab the other man’s face, forcing the evanescent blue of his eyes to meet Erik’s own. When he meets that gaze, full of hope and pain, he loses track of everything he wants to try and say to him in that moment, all the words that he doesn’t think he could ever find anyways, or if he could, could never be enough. And so all he manages is, “I’m here. I’m here _now_.”

The smile, albeit drunken and ridiculous as it is, that he gets for that statement, is well worth the trip itself, and he ducks in for another kiss, which is eagerly given.

Eventually, Erik does manage to convince Charles to let himself be carried to bed. Erik opts to carry him to his room himself and settles him in, making sure he changes and gets comfortable before he kicks off his own shoes and pulls off his shirt before crawling under the covers next to him and wrapping himself around him.

 

When Erik opens his eyes, he is tangled in the sheets alone. He blinks his eyes open slowly and looks around the sunlit room. He can tell it’s earlier than he would have expected it to be. He stifles a yawn as he pulls himself into a sitting position. He is pleasantly surprised to find the room not as empty as he’d first thought. Sitting just a few feet away at the window is Charles in his wheelchair, an unexpected but not unwelcome sight. Whether he feels Erik waking or just hears him, or maybe both, he turns his attention away from the open window to look at the bed, and a peaceful smile graces his features.

“You’re up,” he says, rolling closer to the bed. “You left my wheelchair in the other room last night,” he mentions, voice laced with amusement. “I had to have Hank get it for me.”

Erik’s stomach drops to his feet. He mutters, “So he knows-?”

“That you’re here?” Charles chuckles. “Yes. And I’m sure you’ve assumed he wouldn’t be exactly ecstatic about it. Well, you’ve assumed correctly. He threw an absolute fit, in fact. I had to keep him from mutating and ripping your throat out. I’m honestly quite surprised you managed to sleep through it all. It was quite an ordeal.”  Charles comes closer and sets a mug of tea on the desk beside Erik. He nodes gratefully and picks it up without a word, letting the other man continue.

“Once I assured him that you were here on my, ah, _invitation_ , he calmed down.” With a self-satisfied smirk, Charles adds, “I think he was more disturbed than anything at that point. I’m afraid he might have made some… assumptions.”

“So let him,” Erik mumbles, causing Charles to burst into a fit of laughter.

They sit and sip their tea in a companionable silence for a moment.

“I didn’t think you’d be up so early, considering how out of it you were last night,” Erik comments.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I feel like absolute shit,” Charles giggles, and it can be described as nothing other than a giggle. The sound makes Erik smile. “But alas, I have my responsibilities, and as much as I’d like to, I can’t sleep the day away. You know; students to corral and try to teach. It wouldn’t be fair to leave Hank to go it alone.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?” Erik asks with a soft concern.

“I’ll survive,” Charles assures. “I’ve made it through worse.”

It’s another moment of Charles seeming to think something over, before deciding to go for it and adding quickly, “So, what were you up to last night before I, uh, called you over?”

The question is somewhat unexpected, but Erik realises then that last night was the first incident where Charles had attempted to call him while he wasn’t at home.

Not beating around it, Erik immediately answers matter-of-factly, “I was tracking a train that was carrying important files on a handful of anti-mutant sympathisers with enough influence to cause trouble if they are allowed to.” When he sees Charles’s face fall, he adds quietly, “I have contacts. It will be a small matter to find the information again.”

“Oh,” Charles runs a hand through his hair with a huff and takes a long drink of his tea, before muttering something about “wasting time…” just quietly enough that Erik doesn’t completely catch it.

“I told you,” he repeats, “I can find it again.”

Charles’s brow furrows and he frowns into his tea. Erik waits to see if he’ll speak what’s on his mind, drumming his fingers against the cloth covering his thigh as he does.

“You’ll…” Charles sighs and restarts, levelling Erik with a serious look. “Promise me you won’t be violent about it? No one will get hurt?”

Erik feels his shoulders relax with the force of his relief, and the corners of his lips quirk up in what’s probably almost a smile as he answers, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Charles visibly relaxes. “Still, I’m sorry,” he says.

“There’s no reason to be,” Erik shakes his head. He pulls the covers away from himself at that point, and swings his legs over the side of the bed, putting a hand on Charles’s shoulder as he stands. He stops to look around the room when he doesn’t immediately see what he’s searching for.

“It’s hanging on the doorknob,” Charles laughs. “You can thank Hank for that. I think he wanted to make sure you found it. I’m pretty sure he never wants to see you shirtless again.”

“I’m not sure why not,” Erik mutters with a smirk. He rolls his bare shoulders back and stretches an arm over his chest, knowing that Charles’s eyes are on him and he has his full attention. He retrieves his shirt from the doorknob and pulls it over his shoulders in one fluid movement, starting to button it all the way to the top as he turns around.

“I take it you’re leaving again, then,” Charles says quietly.

Erik nods slowly, and Charles drops his gaze with a sigh before meeting Erik’s eyes once more.

“It’s for the best, I know…” Charles says, lips twisted into a begrudging smile. “Besides, I can only evade my duties for so long. Hank’s not going to be able to keep questioning minds at bay forever, and I’m not sure I’m ready to answer what they have to ask. Of course, you could…” Charles pauses here, but steels himself and plows ahead with what he was going to say anyway. “You could always stay here. There’s always room for you, if you ever decide to make the school home.”

He doesn’t say _again_.

Erik puts his hands on the arms of Charles’s wheelchair and leans over until he is at eye level, with iridescent blue close enough for him to drown in. For a moment, he considers saying _yes_ ; throwing away all of his ideas and trading his struggle in for the assurance of a warm bed to share every night and the chance to get to lose himself in a sea of irresistible blue as much as he wants.  

His breath is shaky on the exhale when he murmurs, “Not this time, my friend.”

It’s not quite a promise, but it’s something close.

Charles’s smile turns sad. Although Erik knows he wasn’t really expecting any other answer, from this distance he can practically feel the hope radiating from him, and he thinks it might be good for him to be around this extraordinary mutant and his even more incredible sense of hope. Maybe he’ll absorb some of it for himself.

One of Erik’s hands comes up to grasp the back of Charles’s neck, and he pulls him into a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. He can feel the upturn of Charles’s lips as he smiles into it, and it is even more beautiful to see when he pulls away.

“Maybe if you visited more often, we wouldn’t always have to meet under such unfavourable circumstances,” the telepath hums, catching Erik’s hand in his own as he straightens up.

“Then maybe I’ll find some time to drop in once in awhile,” Erik says, and although he doesn’t word it as one, they both know that this one is definitely a promise.

He steps over to the window and sits down on the windowsill, pulling his boots to him with a flick of his wrist and tying them as he sits with Charles watching him silently.

Steeling himself to say what he needs to, he looks up. The moment he sees Charles’s fond gaze on him, he ducks his head again, suddenly overcome with shyness. He clears his throat softly before speaking. “I just… You mentioned last night, and I though you need to know… I wanted to say-” Erik coughs awkwardly, and Charles snickers at him, although not unkindly. He huffs out a breath, and manages, “I miss you, too. That’s all.”

Erik finishes off tying his right shoe with a harsh tug, still not looking up at the other man in the room. He always has trouble expressing what he really means with a sober Charles, and he knows it. But it’s always so much easier when Charles is drunk and has called him up, and he _knows_ without a doubt that he is needed there. He hates himself a little bit for his hesitation to speak as freely when he knows for sure that Charles will remember it.

He knows Charles doesn’t begrudge him for it, though – never has – and he is reminded of that when he finds it in himself to look up and sees nothing but a blinding smile shining in his direction, full of an adoration he knows he doesn’t deserve.

Erik stands and feels the need to fill the silence with words. Hesitantly, he says, “Goodbye, Charles.”

It’s not a sad goodbye, not really, and both of them know it won’t be permanent.

“Goodbye, Erik,” Charles responds, happiness unwavering.

Erik turns and steps out the window, lifting himself away from the school without looking back.

Despite everything, he leaves with a smile on his face.


End file.
